<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Providence Their Guide by ZeldaByrdeBishop</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28680639">Providence Their Guide</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeldaByrdeBishop/pseuds/ZeldaByrdeBishop'>ZeldaByrdeBishop</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fix It Fic, Gen, I'm really out here trying to fix the garbage they gave us, TW: Drug Abuse, TW: Self Harm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:35:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,522</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28680639</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeldaByrdeBishop/pseuds/ZeldaByrdeBishop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zelda Spellman refuses to believe her niece, Sabrina Spellman is gone for good. There must be a way to return her back from the dead. Right?<br/>(A Post-Season 4 fix-it-fic)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Providence Their Guide</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>RAS left is with a garbage ending and a million loose ends and I refuse to accept it. Characters and relationships will be edited as the fic progresses.<br/>I'm sure there are editing discrepancies but I can't look at this chapter anymore so - Enjoy!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>To go back is nothing but death; to go forward is fear of death, and life everlasting beyond it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I will yet go forward.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The Pilgrim’s Progress” - John Bunyan</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing but the sound of the ticking of the large grandfather clock that sat in the parlor as Ambrose sat in front of the fireplace, breaking tiny twigs to add them to the flames. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Zelda sat on the couch, smoking a cigarette with “Paradise Lost” by John Milton sat in her lap, but she made no move to read it. Vinegar Tom stayed curled up beside her, his eyes open, watching as Aunt Hilda sat knitting, while Dr. Cerberus held her ball of yarn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ambrose took in a deep breath and looked back to his elder aunt who’s jaw, apart from opening her lips for her cigarette, had not loosened since Sabrina’s sacrifice two weeks prior. The house had been silent since this event. He wished he could bring some life back into them all, but any joy felt forced and ill timed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been two weeks of sorrow. Two weeks of silence. One week where the bookshop had closed and classes at the academy were cancelled and one week where while Dr. Cee and Aunt Hilda went to the bookshop, while he and Aunt Zee went to the Academy where his aunt instructed students as if nothing were amiss - only to join him in the library with Prudence at the end of the day to drink and sit once again in silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only noise he’s truly heard for noise’s sake was the sound of Vinegar Tom’s tiny claws ticking over the floor as he followed his master around the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the phone rang. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ambrose jumped and looked towards the hall where the phone rang. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Hilda looked to Dr. Cee and then to Auntie Zee, her mouth opening as if to ask a question, but Zelda simply knocked some ash off the end of her cigarette and opened the brittle aged pages of her book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hilda quietly got up, setting the knitting on the couch before going to retrieve the call, “Spellman Sister’s Mortuary? This is Hilda. How can I be of assistance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ambrose peeled the bark off of a stick as he listened to his Aunt on the phone, asking for a name and when the coroner would be dropping the body off before hanging up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Zelda? Ambrose? That was the coroner’s office. He’s coming by in an hour to drop off the body of Mark Richards….from the supermarket?...apparently there was an incident down in the west ally….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ambrose nodded and stood up to go disinfect the embalming table and his tools. He knew he would be working alone, as much as he wished for his aunt’s company. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he traveled down the winding staircase, he tried not to think about how the last body that had sat on their table was his cousin’s, but this thought couldn’t be pushed aside for long as there at the head of the table were a few white hairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gently took up the hairs as his jaw shook, going into his aunt’s cabinet for a small jar to close the hairs inside, holding them close to his chest. “Oh, cousin….how I miss you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dr. Cerberus watched Zelda as he held his wife’s knitting while she scuttled about to help prepare for the body’s arrival, retreating to her elder sister’s study for the proper paperwork.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you going to go down and help Ambrose? Hilda told me how much comfort you get from cutting into a body to look for pacemakers!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda stood and Vinnie T stood with her as she set down the book on her usual side table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ambrose will do a fine job on his own and you know nothing of what comforts me,” the woman gnashed. “Besides. I have a class to teach in an hour. If Ambrose needs anything - which he won’t- he can call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zelda, you do know you can take some time off, right? You didn’t even take the week off that you gave to your students. You need time to process what happened or-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was met with the tinkle of Zelda’s hearse keys and the slam of the house door shutting as she left, leaving him and Vinegar Tom in her wake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dr. Cee sighed and looked down to the puppy on the floor who began to whine, “I tried…. Oh! I forgot! I got you a bone yesterday!” He cried out, setting down the knitting to retrieve the bone from the pantry, eager to make even the smallest of remedies to the household. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pup accepted the bone when the book keeper returned, but didn’t begin to gnaw on it. Instead, he simply lied down, resting his face between his paws to settle in to watch the door for the day - waiting for his master to return.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zelda Spellman sat at her desk, staring at the two large double doors before her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had class in ten minutes and needed to screw her brain on straight - get out of the cloud that had formed around her and be a leader to the students. She may have lost a daughter, but she would be damned if her students lost a mother in the process. She needed to be present for them. She blamed her departure from their routine for young Nicholas Scratch’s death. Perhaps, if she’d been able to face the front of the classroom just a half a week before he would still be here. Perhaps she could have noticed a change in his behavior - given him a purpose to tie himself to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witch took in a steady breath and shut her eyes, taking in the feeling of the hard, sturdy wood of the chair behind her head, of the velvet cushion below her, of how cold her toes felt in her shoes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She opened the bottom drawer of her desk, her fingers skating over Pandora’s Box to the smaller box and the large ceremonial knife beside it. She removed two small white pills from the box and set them on the desk in front of her, before using the same large knife she had used to kill her niece, to crush the pills into a fine white powder. She scooped the dust into two lines and took out a small golden straw she had procured back from her and Constance’s rebellious days to take the powder into her nose in two long deep breaths. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witch sniffed and rubbed her nostrils softly, sending the last of the powder to her brain, before pouring a small glass of whiskey, swishing some of the liquid between her teeth before standing and swallowing. She took up her briefcase and set it on the desk before lighting her cigarette, ensuring there were plenty of cigarettes in her silver case before setting it in the briefcase’s front pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Five minutes. The witch took in the smoke and downed the rest of the whiskey glass before turning to the small stuffed black cat that sat on a pedestal in the corner beside one of the fireplaces. “.........Be sure to keep your filthy paws off my desk, Salem. If I see a single item has moved an inch - I’m blaming </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Oh, and if you see Sabrina, ask her what she would like Hilda to make for dinner so I can pass along the message.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that the witch took up the case and walked out the door, the Ritalin kicking in as she walked, or at least the idea of the Ritalin. She cared not whether the placebo was the cause of the cloud’s shifting form or if the actual drugs were the cause, just as she would allow herself to live in the fantasy that perhaps Sabrina might be home when her classes concluded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shoved down the voice in the back of her mind that tapped at the base of her frontal cortex, squeezing harshly around her heart - reminding her that this was not true and would never be true. Her heels hit the floor harder as she opened the door to the classroom, her focus narrowing to only the events in the room. “Good morning, class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Directrix Spellman,” the class echoed solemnly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moved to the front of the class and set down the briefcase, pulling in another drag from her cigarette before opening the case. “This week we will be narrowing in on Hekate’s keys. How they’ve been represented through history, how these keys aid us, and potions and incantations that utilize them. I expect you all to have done the reading - ”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The clock ticked steadily as Zelda sat in her study at the Spellman Manor, smoking. Vinegar Tom was curled up in his small basket beside her desk, her eyes shut - sleeping, as the wail of the Banshee rang through Zelda’s brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shut her eyes and pressed her palms hard against her eye sockets, the pounding in her head persistent. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Auntie? Why is the sky blue?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Zelda rolled her eyes and took another sip of whiskey before replying as her three year old niece climbed into her lap, bending the pages of the witch’s centuries old Latin text. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Because our eyes see the refracted sunlight that hits our atmosphere as the color blue.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The toddler nodded and stood up on her aunt’s leg, the woman’s arm instinctively held the girl’s small legs to her as Sabrina leaned over her aunt hugging her neck. The girl’s tiny nose burying into the copper curls of the old witch. “What is the atmopeer?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Atmosphere,” Zelda corrected.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A...t-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“At-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“At.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mo-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mo.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sphere.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sphere.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Atmosphere.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“At-mo-sphere!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good girl. The atmosphere is the gasses that surround us on this planet that sustain us and keep us grounded and breathing. Nitrogen….oxygen-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What is Nitrogen?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sabrina, I have a question for you instead.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The girl perked up and plopped back into the woman’s lap, half sitting on Zelda’s book.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What is your bedtime?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The little half-witch’s lips pursed, “......8 o’clock.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Zelda nodded and gently turned Sabrina’s face towards the large grandfather clock on the adjacent wall with her finger, before pointing to the clock hands. “Do you remember how to tell time?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sabrina frowned deeply and squinted at the clock, “8...and the 3 is 15!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Very good and what does that mean…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The girl deflated, wrapping her arms around her aunt’s middle, resting her face on Zelda’s soft chest, “But I wanna stay up with </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>you</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ashes and tears fell onto the old text she was reading on resurrection spells and necromancy as she sniffed, wiping her face and nose with her fingers. She’d read this text and all of the others that sat in a small stack at her feet over five times over each and still she had no clue how she might be able to return Sabrina. They’d tried potion after potion and spell after spell, but none had been conclusive. Much of it came down to where Sabrina resided in death and of that she had no clue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d debated calling for Baron Samedi, but she feared Sabrina wouldn’t be with him - that instead she would be in a mortal deathscape - a place where Zelda could not go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d mulled over equivalent sacrifices to Hecate in the hope of trading her niece back, but the goddess’s name left such a sour taste on her tongue and she had no way of knowing if the goddess could even hear her let alone would be in the business of dealing with her. Hekate certainly had made her energies scarce since Sabrina’s death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda focused on the sound of the clock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let the sound fill her pulsing head as she sat there. She shouldn’t have lied to Hilda, saying that she’d eaten at the academy. She should have eaten the supper her sister prepared, but she didn’t, perhaps if she had her head wouldn’t hurt so and she would be able to think and properly weigh out her transgressions against the sea of her feeble prayers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In her defense, she hadn’t been hungry when Hilda asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clock struck three.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bong. Bong. Bong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The new sound ricocheted around her skull with a new force as she turned her eyes to gaze at the small leather dice pouch that sat at the far corner of her desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marie. Baron Samedi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could practically feel Marie’s gentle hand trailing up her neck to snake through her hair, massaging her scalp. Zelda shut her eyes again, focusing on the phantom feeling. She simply wished it was real, rather than a figment of her imagination - her mind playing games in an attempt to ground her malnourished body into a sliver of reality. Marie would have known what to do, or at the very least - a direction to look.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Marie, I miss you…….I miss you even if you are Baron Samedi. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She prayed before carefully rising from her chair to travel to the kitchen. With any luck she would drop dead on her way to the left over meat pie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took care not to turn any lights on as she scoured the fridge for the leftovers, the small fridge light enough to make her hold the bridge of her nose, squinting at the parcels, trying to decipher which one would contain the coveted meat pie. Sighing, she moved a few of the packages before shifting a bottle of wine to get a better look, jumping back as the bottle slipped in it’s shifting, shattering on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda hissed as her tights were instantly soaked in the deep red liquid. Dammit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watched the wine spread over the floor around her feet as she brought her cigarette back to his lips, crossing her arms. So much for meat pie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zelds?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly the kitchen light flipped on and Zelda held out her hand against the light, cowering like a vampire in the sunlight with a snarl. “Hildegard!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Zelda…. You look dreadful! Have you slept!?” Her sister quickly spewed in concern as she shut the light back off, rushing over, almost stepping in the wine, but catching her feet in time. “Oh!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lower your voice,” the older witch hissed, standing in the stagnant puddle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Zelda... Your stockings!” The younger witch worried at a whisper, turning to run off for the cleaning supplies, giving Zelda enough time to hike out and step out of her tights with Hilda out of the room in order to keep the circular burn marks that had begun to coat the insides of her thighs out of her sister’s perception. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” her sister encouraged, setting down a towel to Zelda to stand on with her wine</span>
</p><p>
  <span>coated feet before she began to mop up the mess. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda watched quietly, feeling very young as she held her soaked tights in her hands, her cigarette’s ashes mixing into the wine beyond the towel. It looked so much like blood….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There had been so much blood when she’d killed Sabrina. It was all over the table. All over her hands...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zelda?....Zelda,” Hilda called, snapping her sister back to the present. The wine had been cleaned already. There’s no way the mess could have been cleaned so fast. Had Hilda used magic?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda blinked a few times, finding her eyes flooded with tears as they connected to Hilda’s. “.......”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hilda’s lips quivered softly as she squeezed her sister’s hands. Zelda hadn’t even felt her grab them. “It wasn’t your fault….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older witch’s face steeled and she snatched her hands away, stamping her feet on the towel before turning on her heel to make her escape, only for her hand to be grabbed once again by Hilda.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zelda, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda snapped her eyes back to her, tugging her hand away from her sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Zelda, I know you’re still reading Ambrose’s necromancy and resurrection texts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The eldest Spellman quickly walked out of the kitchen, her bare feet practically skating over the chilled hard wood back towards the study.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zelda! Stop!” Hilda quickly demanded, rushing after her sister. “Sabrina wouldn’t want this for you - for her!” She grabbed her sister’s upper arm just before she could shut the door to the study. “There is nothing we can do, Zelda…….nothing can bring her back. We tried the Cain Pit. We tried every potion...every spell in those books. She’s gone, we’ve done everything we could. You need to rest! You need to let </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>rest,” Hilda pleaded, choked with tears, her words reaching desperately not only to comfort her elder sister, but herself as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda could feel her chin shaking as her eyes pierced into her sister’s soft ones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sister. That’s where you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Zelda snarled, shoving her sister’s hand away forcing Hilda to jump back to only narrowly avoid the door, leaving Hilda with her hands desperately wiping away tears, praying to Hecate that she would allow their family to heal. She prayed Hecate wouldn’t come too late a second time…. She couldn’t bear to lose her sister too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Three Hours Later</b>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda swung her baseball bat hard, hitting Faustus’s torso with a force to rival Babe Ruth’s. The man hissed as the bat connected to his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wound up again and swung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The former high priest cried out in pain, his abdomen clenching against the impact shocks that ripped through his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harder, dearest! You used to swing better than that!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda’s lip curled into a snarl, her hands shaking with rage as she wound up again, cracking the bat over his skull, sending blood flying onto the wall behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had paced for three hours after she’d thrown Hilda from her study. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her sister couldn’t be right. There had to be a way and if anyone knew that way - it would be Faustus. He’d studied the Eldritch texts. He’d dedicated himself to using them for the world’s destruction. It had to be possible for Sabrina to return. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be. She just needed a sliver of proof. Just a sliver...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned his face back to her, grinning at her, blood dripping from his lips, his usually pearly teeth now a glistening dark red. “When will it sink in?” He spit a glob of blood to the side, his eyes though bandaged, somehow still emanating glee. “I cannot </span>
  <em>
    <span>die.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She swung again - harder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hit his face, attempting to cave it in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witch snapped the bat back like a pool stick and used the bat to pin the man to the wall behind him and </span>
  <em>
    <span>screamed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The sound was loud and guttural, shaking his eardrums with it’s force as it rang through the cell, likely heard by all within the academy’s walls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“TELL ME HOW TO BRING HER BACK!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who? Sabrina? Or your Cathotic Beau?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“STOP IT! TELL ME!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned wickedly and bit his tongue in jest, toying with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snapped the bat back and bashed the wood against his skull again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“THERE HAS TO BE A WAY! TELL ME! RIGHT NOW! YOU TELL ME RIGHT NOW!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood poured from his mouth over her shoes as his body convulsed. Her husband’s head shakily moved back to face her tear filled angry eyes, as he took in the feeling of her hot ragged breath against his nose and cheeks. She once again used her bat to pin him, keeping him under her as if he could move otherwise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is not one thing in this dark world that will get me to sing, Wife. Not one,” he stated, spitting blood into the witch’s face, his voice coy at the errotic feeling of her shaking with anger just above him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda flinched and her chin worked hard as she pushed the bat into his rib cage harder, almost snapping a few of them, before her body suddenly stilled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“....But....it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>possible….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?..Yes? Of course. Wh-” He asked, confused - her tone throwing him, this was not the game he thought they were playing. But she provided no answers - far from him in thought, despite her body being so close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The baseball bat fell to the ground as she took his face in her hands, her jaw falling open, before she turned to quickly exit the witch’s cell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait! Zelda! ZELDA! WAIT! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!” Faustus yelled after her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The witch couldn’t help but grin as she ran down the halls of the dungeon and up the stairs through the academy to it’s exit. He’d given her all she needed to know, whether he intended to or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sabrina </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>be saved. If there was something he deemed worth withholding from her- then there was still a fight to be had! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sabrina COULD be saved</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“HILDA! HILDEGARD!!” the witch cried out with glee as paintings and candles flew past her line of sight, despite knowing her sister wasn’t even in the building. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sabrina could be saved. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And perhaps more.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“HIIIILLLDAAA!!!” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>